


you're not a good shot (but i'm worse)

by BoyishStutter



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Relationships, Lack of Communication, M/M, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyishStutter/pseuds/BoyishStutter
Summary: After his death, Tobirama and Madara are forced to work together to keep Hashirama's dream alive. They run into a few hiccups as the nature of their relationship changes.





	1. Chapter 1

Tobirama raises his arm to block Madara’s attack, grunting as the blow connects. It’s a friendly spar and he knows Madara isn’t even close to using his full strength, but he’s still a great deal stronger than Tobirama’s usual sparring partners. Since Hashirama died no one had been able to properly challenge him, especially now that the village was enjoying a time of peace. He was grateful that they could avoid war, but bureaucracy presented an entirely different sort of battle that he often felt thoroughly unprepared to handle.

It had been a welcome surprise when Madara suggested that they utilize one of the training rooms after the diplomatic visit from Suna to work out some of their frustration. It’s a good idea, they certainly get along better trading blows than they ever do in the Hokage’s office.

Madara smirks, tossing his bangs out of his face, both of them already sweating, “Getting soft, Tobirama?”

“Shut up,” he answers reflexively.

It’s the usual trade of barbed comments, but it lacks the heat it once did. They’d developed an uneasy truce after Hashirama’s death, putting the man’s dream for the village above their personal animosity towards one another.

Tobirama’s loathe to admit it, but he’s glad that Madara opted to stay in Konoha. The man is an ally he feels lucky to have, despite their constant arguments and poking at each other’s soft spots. He doesn’t know what the past two years would have brought had he been forced to face them alone.

It’s still odd, though. The familiarity they’ve developed between themselves. A part of Tobirama feels guilty that Hashirama didn’t live to see his best friend and brother getting along, but so it goes.

He transports to Madara’s blindspot, aiming a quick jab to the man’s side. It’s tracked by the Sharingan and Madara dodges easily with a laugh.

Tobirama opens his mouth to scold the man for relying on his visual prowess even in a simple spar, but he falters, the expression of such easy joy surprising coming from Madara. The man laughed, of course he did, but there was always an edge. It always held something darker and more sinister, something that Tobirama hopes he never has to examine more closely.

Still, this time there is no mocking tilt to the laughter. It’s simple happiness etched across Madara’s face and it makes Tobirama’s chest ache in an uncomfortable fashion that’s becoming all too common while in the other man’s presence.

“What’s wrong?”

Madara’s easiness fades, a concerned yet guarded expression taking over his face.

Tobirama resumes a defensive position, “Nothing, continue.”

The other man frowns, scowling. It’s a more typical expression but he still finds it endearing in a way he doesn’t want to admit.

“You’re still keeping secrets, then.”

It’s sad flatly, all traces of his previous humor gone. It makes Tobirama’s head spin how quickly Madara can go from trusted advisor and dare he say, _friend_ , to brooding antagonizer.

“Stop it, I’m not keeping secrets. It’s truly nothing, can we please continue?”

He’s too tired to try and soothe Madara’s ego and he wishes, not for the first time, that he had more of Hashirama’s grace. He’s grown to care for the man, more so than he’s ready to admit, but Madara is still incredibly infuriating. He wishes that just this once Madara will be willing to let something go.

“If it’s truly nothing then why can’t I know? Just admit you don’t trust me.”

Tobirama grinds his teeth, irritated that Madara must turn everything into a personal slight. The man’s aura is growing darker and Tobirama has had enough.

“Why do you have to be so difficult all the time!”

He’s angry and frustrated, at himself for being so easily flustered by Madara and at Madara for ruining what was an otherwise enjoyable evening. He wants one night where things aren’t fragile and complicated.

“You’re one to talk!”

The retort is hissed, accompanied by a finger pointing in his face, and Tobirama snaps. He shoves Madara, hard. It’s ungraceful and unbefitting for shinobi of their talents but Madara simply grins, showing his teeth, before diving forward to tackle Tobirama to the ground.

They wrestle without finesse, elbows flying at each other’s faces and slapping at whatever is in reach. Tobirama pulls at Madara’s hair and Madara bites down on his bicep in retaliation. It’s messy grappling that is more akin to a public brawl than a sparring session between two elite nin., neither of them even attempting to use their hard earned jutsus.

Madara settles on top of Tobirama, pinning the man’s arms by his head and grinning down at him, victoriously. Tobirama attempts to pull free, but Madara settles his weight more fully on the other man, using his hips to to keep him still.

He leans forward, face hovering dangerously close above Tobirama’s, “I don’t think so.”

Tobirama resists the urge to shiver as he feels Madara’s exhalation on his cheek. It’s a delicious kind of torture, but one that he doesn’t know how long he can withstand. His face feels like it’s on fire and he’s consumed by the need to escape before Madara realizes just how little he minds their position.

He bucks his hips, a last ditch effort to shake Madara loose. It’s fruitless, the man simply pressing down harder to keep him pinned against the floor. Tobirama can’t suppress his gasp as he feels Madara’s hardness even through their pants.

It feels like all the air has left the room. There’s not a single noise except for the roaring in his ears, and Tobirama is sure that he’s going to combust on the spot. He’s not sure what’s going to happen next, but he’s unable to move with Madara’s hips against his and hands pinning his wrists to the floor so tightly there’s sure to be bruises later.

Madara’s face is unreadable, eyes dark and intent on Tobirama’s face.

“Madara…?”

He’s unsure what he means to say, what he wants to ask. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter because instead of answering Madara chooses to close the remaining distance between them and press his mouth to Tobirama’s.

Madara isn’t gentle. He bites and licks, sucks on Tobirama’s tongue and leaves him desperate for air. It’s messy and dirty in a way that Tobirama hadn’t expected but he really _should have_ because it’s Madara and nothing between them has ever been soft or easy.

He raises his knee, hitching it over Madara’s hip, urging the man to press closer. He doesn’t know what they’re doing on what this means, but he knows he doesn’t want it to _stop_.

Madara kisses harder, hips moving insistently. Tobirama strains against the grip on his wrist, wishing he could touch, get his hands on the well-defined muscles rippling as Madara continues take him apart.

He lets out a moan as Madara moves to bite and suck on his neck.

Madara freezes, going still above Tobirama, as though the noise awakened him to the reality before him. Tobirama cranes his neck, trying to catch Madara’s gaze and understand what he sees on Madara’s face. It’s stormy and angry, but there’s a hint of something else...something that Tobirama wants to label as...fear? But, that doesn’t make any sense.

“Madara…”

The man lets go of his wrists and disentangles himself, standing quickly. It takes all of Tobirama’s willpower not to stubbornly lock his legs around Madara’s hips and force him to stay, to acknowledge him.

Madara avoids eye contact, walking briskly to the door. It’s as close to running away as his pride will allow him.

Tobirama watches him leave, not bothering to move from his position on the floor. He closes his eyes, hot tears gathering behind the lids.

Damn, Uchiha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these messy, stubborn, emotionally stunted boys.


	2. Chapter 2

Madara is absent for the next few days. It hurts more than Tobirama wants to admit, even to himself. He remembers a time when he longed for Madara to find interests outside of the Hokage Tower. That desire feels foreign to him now, like it was held by a completely different man.

He stares at the paperwork in front of him, re-reading the same the sentence for the third time. It’s hard to focus when he continues to recall the feel of Madara’s hands holding him down, their hips pressed together. It’s like a vivid fantasy, until he remembers watching Madara walk away without a single glance back.

Tobirama frowns, angry at Madara for being so cold-hearted and even angrier at himself for believing even for a second that Madara could be anything other than an impossible adversary.

His vision blurs, making his fourth re-read impossible. He wants to call it a day and head home, it’s obvious he won’t be able to achieve much in the office today. But, it feels too much like letting Madara win.

Besides, just because the other man can neglect his obligations out of childish spite doesn’t mean that Tobirama is afforded the same luxuries. He thinks of Hashirama, once again in awe of all that his brother achieved. It’s not easy to constantly put the wellbeing of an entire village above one’s own emotional state.

“Hard day?”

Tobirama looks up, surprised that he didn’t notice Mito’s entrance. Her face is kind, but he can see the worried lines between her brows.

“Something like that.”

“What can I do?”

He shakes his head, chest tight from the pure concern in her voice. Mito holds the same unending capacity for love as Hashirama.

“Nothing, it’s alright.”

She frowns as she crosses the room, placing an arm across his shoulder. She rests her head on top of his, sighing, “Oh, Tobirama.”

He swallows the lump in his throat at the blatant affection. He doesn’t think he’ll ever truly get used to being cared for by people other than Hashirama.

“I know.”

She doesn’t comment on the thickness of his voice, and Tobirama loves her for it.

“It’ll be okay,” Mito promises.

He nods, unwilling to argue. She’s as stubborn as the rest of them, if not more so, and disagreeing never leads anywhere good.

Besides, Tobirama  _ wants _ to believe her. They’ve all suffered enough and it’d be nice to believe that just this once things can work out for the best.

Mito falls silent, but doesn’t leave his side. Her presence is comforting and reassuring. It reminds him that despite everything, he’s not alone.

He reaches across his body to place his hand on hers, squeezing her fingers in thanks.

* * *

 

Tobirama leaves early in the afternoon, determined to seek out Madara and settle whatever is going on between them.

He finally finds him on top of the Hokage Monument. It’s still odd, seeing his face alongside his brother’s staring out over the village. Though, if Tobirama is being honest, he finds most aspects of being the Second Hokage uncomfortable. It still feels as though he’s wearing Hashirama’s clothes and playing pretend while hoping no one else notices.

He’s not sure why Madara chose this location to sulk, but he’s grateful for it’s isolation. The last thing he wants is an audience for this particular conversation.

Madara’s back is to him, arms hugging the knees drawn to his chest. Tobirama approaches cautiously, projecting as much calm chakra as he’s able. He doesn’t want to startle the man and instigate a full-blown fight.

He settles next to Madara, cross-legged, keeping his gaze forward.

“You killed my brother.”

It’s not what Tobirama expects Madara to say. It’s said matter of factly, not a question but still clearly expecting a response.

“Yes.”

Tobirama won’t deny it or defend himself. They both know what he’s done.

“Do you regret it?”

Madara speaks calmly. It’s unnerving but Tobirama refuses to be cowed. They’ve both done terrible things in the names of their clan, during a war that seemed without end.

He glances at the man beside him, raising an eyebrow, “Would you regret it if you had killed me that day?”

Surprisingly, the corner of Madara’s mouth lifts in a wry grin.

“No.”

Tobirama turns his gaze back to the village. He isn’t bothered by Madara’s answer. It’s the truth, one that he’s always known. It’s not as though he could answer any differently if asked the same question.

He’s not sure what this means for them, though. It’d never been a secret that there was bad blood between them, literally. But, he’d hoped in time that they could reach beyond their uneasy truce and form a true bond.

Though, Madara’s actions in the training room far exceeded those expectations. It was aggravating being unable to read the man next to him, still far too calm for the conversation they were having. He sighed, “Madara, what do you -”

“I like you.”

His question is cut off by Madara’s blunt comment.

Tobirama startles, turning to face the other man.

“I like you,” Madara continues, “And you killed my brother. I don’t know what that makes me.”

_ I like you. And you asked my brother to kill me _ .

Tobirama closes his eyes. They’re quite a pair.

“It was war,” he offers, the excuse pitiful even to his own ears.

“And now it’s peace,” Madara says.

They sit in silence for a moment.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Madara admits.

“I don’t know either.”

He senses Madara shifting beside him, encroaching on his personal space. He holds his breath, unsure what Madara aims to do next.

He feels fingers skim along his chin.

“I’m tired of being alone,” Madara says, “Izuna would understand that, right?”

Tobirama opens his eyes, seeing Madara’s face close to his just as it was in the training room. He opens his mouth, unsure how to answer. He selfishly wants to say ‘ _ yes _ .’ But, he knows it’s not his place. He didn’t know Izuna. He doesn’t want to ask Madara to disrespect his brother’s memory.

But, Madara doesn’t wait for an answer, and simply leans in to kiss Tobirama. It’s much softer than the heated exchange they had before, Madara’s tongue gently stroking his own. It’s tender and uncertain and Tobirama could cry from the pure emotion of it all.

He doesn’t know what this makes them, either.

It doesn’t stop him from kissing back, taking advantage of his unrestrained hands to reach up and cup Madara’s face.

Maybe it’s wrong, maybe they shouldn’t be doing this, but Tobirama can’t bring himself to stop.

At times, it feels like they’re the only two people left who understand what it was like before there was peace. They’re both too hardened and jagged for this new era, two broken people attempting to navigate a changing world.

If they can find any form of solace in each other, Tobirama won’t walk away from that. He can’t.

“Don’t leave,” He says, against Madara’s lips. It’s a plea he doesn’t mean to let escape but now that it’s out there he refuses to take it back. He puts some distance between them so they can look into each other’s eyes. The last few days without Madara had been hard, driving home just how necessary the man had become to him. He doesn’t know how he could bear watching Madara walk away again.

Madara pulls him back, resting their foreheads together, “I won’t. I’m not running anymore.”

Tobirama sighs, the relief coursing through him palpable. He lets Madara capture his mouth once more, easily returning the insistent kiss.

It’s still not as heated as the attention Madara showed him prior, but it’s nice. For once, it’s simple and easy. They grip each other tightly, but it’s as though they’re terrified that if they let go the other will disappear. There is no end goal, it’s enough to simply feel the other and be reassured by his presence.

He knows it won't stay easy, nothing could ever truly be smooth sailing between the two of them. But, for the first time in a long time Tobirama feels genuinely happy. He breaks the kiss with an uncharacteristic smile. Madara grumbles, but he can feel the man’s answering smile against his lips.

There’s no declarations of love. There’s no grand gestures or promises. But, it’s enough. They sit above the village they’d sacrificed so much for, tentatively relearning each other with a hopefulness they hadn't dared to express before, finally allowing themselves to embrace the hard won peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm toying with a few ideas of a coda/epilogue to this...but who knows! Hope you enjoyed it!


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